He, Jimmie Dale, with his strange double life, one of New York's young bachelor millionaires, one whose social status was unquestioned; and she, who--who WHAT?
That was just it! Who what?
What was she?
What was her name?
What one personal, intimate thing did he know about her?
And what was to be the end?
Not that he would have severed his association with her--not for worlds!--though every time, that, by some new and curious method, one of her letters found its way into his hands, outlining some fresh coup for him to execute, his peril and danger of discovery was increased in staggering ratio.

To-day, the police hunted the Gray Seal as they hunted a mad dog; the papers stormed and raved against him: in every detective bureau of two continents he was catalogued as the most notorious criminal of the age--and yet, strange paradox, no single crime had ever been committed! Jimmie Dale's strong, fine-featured face lighted up.

Crime! Thanks to her, there were those who blessed the name of the Gray Seal, those into whose lives had come joy, relief from misery, escape from death even--and their blessings were worth a thousandfold the risk and peril of disaster that threatened him at every minute of the day.
"Thank God for her!" murmured Jimmie Dale softly.

"But--but if I could only find her, see her, know who she is, talk to her, and hear her voice!" Then he smiled a little wanly.

"It's been a pretty tough month--and nothing to show for it!" It had! It had been one of the hardest months through which Jimmie Dale had ever lived.